Welcome to The Devil's Nest
by shells210
Summary: Day by day, week by week you're always learning more about your co-workers and your infuriating boss. Series of Reader inserts.
1. Homunculus

He was dead. Or at least, he should have been, after being shot in chest by three separate men. Yet there he stood, your pain-in-the-ass, possessive, fur wearing boss. His sunglasses lay shattered on the ground, an effect of punch that had gotten him far back enough the guns could be used. And they were, two clips and shot gun emptied. But he was still standing in front of you, on the other side of the bar you had taken to crouching behind while you searched the 'Board of Education'. Dolcetto was in the other corner, sword unsheathed and teeth bared in animalistic snarl while Martel and Roa were nowhere to be seen, having gone out for food earlier.

"What…the hell?" you gripped the wood tightly in one hand, previously broken beer bottle in the other. Greed sat on the bar stool, some strange form of lightning dancing across his chest as he stared at the very stunned gunmen. Realization that they had tried to kill your boss and were still threatening to kill you struck and you reacted, throwing the bottle with deadly accuracy and slicing open one man's shoulder with it.

One of the others turned to you, eyes wide with terror and confusion as he aimed at you with an empty gun. The paddle came down hard on his head, reinforced with metal to keep it from breaking on even the hardest of head. Thoughts of your employers miraculous survival fled when the third man grabbed you still out stretched arm and yanked, sending you flying from you previous position of safety and onto one of the table. You slid across it, glass breaking and cutting into your skin on the short trip across and down onto the floor, chair shattering under your sudden weight and head smacking sharply against the ground.

The world span before your eyes and you were dimly aware that your weapons were no longer in hand before you caught sight of Greed in all his should-be-dead glory with a hand curled tightly around the man's throat, cutting off circulation. You had seen him angry before, and while that had been scary in the manner of I-might-loose-my-job, or he-actually-cares-that-I-don't-die-walking-home-now-I'm-guilty, you had never seen him like this. He looked furious, ready to kill. And from the purple hue of the other man's face he just might.

"You think you get to touch what's _mine?"_ you could hear the hiss of his words even as glass cracked under your battered, bruised, and bleeding form, weight shifting as you twisted to sit up and see what was going on.

The man who had thrown you was stuttering some nonsense, crazed, terrified, nothings as he shook in Greed's grasp. Somehow you managed to clear your throat, catching the violet eyes that were starting make a bit more sense.

"If you kill him," you croaked, wind still returning to your system, "then it would be more trouble than he's worth. Getting rid of the body, an' all." The man, if that is what he counted as, regarded you strangely as you tried to stand, only succeeding in bringing the table crashing down. You didn't land in any more glass though, which was something. You had always known about the groups illegal dealings, but you had pushed them from your mind. To see the people you had come to trust, perhaps mistakenly, kill someone wasn't a reality you were sure you wanted to face.

For whatever reason he listened, dropping the thug to the ground and letting he scramble away, hacking and trying to breath. The men that Dolcetto had dispatched, those that were not unconscious, were quick to follow his lead. Your boss approached and you resisted the urge to flinch back, forcing yourself to stay still. There was a reason, surely.

You grunted, holding out a hand and smiling when he took it, hoisting you up, "I knew you were the devil."

Dolcetto, who had been watching you with some form of apprehension, broke into a grin at your response. From the look of your boss you knew it was the right one.

* * *

"So… Homunculi?" You were sitting on the couch in the room in the basement of the Devils Nest, Band-Aids and Vaseline keeping you from bleeding any further. Most of the wounds were shallow, so nothing major had been needed.

Greed nodded, "That's right. And those four," he jerked his head to his other subordinates, "Are Chimera." Now that was a word you recognized. You were no alchemist, but you had met them before, like Mrs. Curtis. You had never heard of human chimera before, but just the same you nodded in understanding.

"How did that happen?" looks were exchanged and it was Martel that spoke.

"You've heard about soldiers that never came back from Ishval?" you nodded, "Well we were all soldier there, and ended up injured somehow and when we went to get treated, well…" It wasn't a nice story. In fact if you thought too much about it you were sure you would want to go track down whoever had done it and tear them apart yourself. So you listened to the watered down version of what you were positive was a very gruesome tale. Bido, who had always been fidgety and never really got to close to you, revealed that he could walk on walls and had a tail of all things. Dolcetto's pack mentality and strangely good judge of character, as well the impossible size of Roa were explained as was Martel's odd flexibility.

* * *

A month since you had learned of their non-humanness and you were still working for Greed as if nothing had ever happened, though your attempts to kill him with when he got too much on your nerves increased in ferocity.

You grew closer to your fellows as well. As the resident chef and barmaid you had already known their favorite foods and preferred drinks, but with the biggest secret(Of theirs) out of the way they grew steadily more open with you, and you with them, Greed not excluded. With the growth in emotional bonds so too grew your comfort in physical contact with your friends. The Homunculus did nothing to object.

And that was how you ended up like this after a long day and few more fights than usual to break up. You had collapsed on one of the love seats, Greed's favorites in fact, feet thrown over one arm and head resting on the cushion. He had walked over and, without any say on your part, lifted you head up and slid between you and the seat, allowing you to not move further with your head in his lap and his arms on either side of him, as if he had women on them, as per usual.

It was then that you noticed the tattoo on his hand. He had shown it to you before, the serpent eating its own tail, and it had been a source of fascination since. You reached up and took his hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked, watching you in a mix of curiosity and amusement as you began to trace the design.

"O serpent heart hid with a flowering face! Did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave?" his eyebrows rose in question as you started quoting Shakespeare, "Beautiful tyrant, feind angelical, dove feather raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of devinest show, just opposite to what thou justly seemest. A dammed saint, an honourable villain!" you grinned up at him cheekily, "Fits you don't you think?"

"Beautiful Tyrant huh?" he teased, and you reached up to hit him in the head.

"Shut up Romeo."


	2. Don't Harass the Barmaid

Was this kid stupid?

You stared at the boy, younger than you for sure, considering whether he was worth the trouble of hitting. He was flirting, heavily, badly, with the worse pickup lines you had ever heard in your life. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Martel and Dolcetto, leaning against wall and staring at you, smirking and shaking hands. Did they just bet on you getting with this brat?

"I bet that hurt," you glanced at him, annoyance steadily growing as you poured a glass of whiskey for another customer.

"Lots of things hurt, to which are you referring?" he gave you what you were sure was supposed to be a charming smirk, but just looked like a sorry attempt at a smolder. Who was this kid again?

"Why, when you fell from heaven of course. "

A pause, a sigh, and you knew your answer. He was most certainly not worth your efforts of disposal. So you opted to ignore it, but the brat just wouldn't stop. Did kids today not understand the phrase 'take a hint'? Wait, you were still a kid too, by your co-workers standards at least. You let out an annoyed groan, about to turn back to the other bar goers you saw a familiar arm drop across the boys shoulders.

"Well, what do we have here?" a grin split the homunculus's face and a chill went down your spine at the sight of sharp, violet eyes locked on the boy's face. The kid looked disgruntled, startled, creeped out in every way and all it made you want to do was laugh. It served him right!

"Who are you?" he asked snarkily, and a grin split wider across Greed's face. You shook you head and got ready to clean up whatever mess was made, perhaps a bit too familiar with your employer and his habits and possessive tendencies. From the second he decided you were his there wasn't a person in the world that would be able to get him to give you up, maybe not even you yourself.

"I'm the owner of this place, and _you_ are messing with one of my workers. Didn't you read the sign?" he jerked his head to the sign that he had set up several weeks ago, reading in his almost messy scrawl of _**Harass the barmaid at your own risk. She bites. **_It had been made after a particular incident wherein it became necessary that you bite through the soft flesh of a man's thumb/palm, nearly tearing off a chunk of it. That was one of the messier fights you had gotten into in the Devils' Nest.

"Oh come on, I was just being friendly!" he wined, and you almost tackled him right then. That wasn't friendly, that was bullshit, self-entitled, oblivious, half assed, you didn't know what other adjectives to use to describe his immature behavior.

Greed laughed, long and loud before he spoke again, "Right." And then the kid was sailing through the air, caught by Roa, and tossed out of the side door. The dark haired man turned back to you and leaned across the bar, eyes trained on you.

"Did you just throw away money?" you asked, staring after the boy in surprise. He hadn't done anything wrong, not really, and it was rare for anyone to be banned from seedy little hut. Greed shrugged, vest pulling at his shoulders.

"Money drops when you stop being nice and scare away my customer," he replied cooly, reaching across the counter and grabbing the string of your apron, yanking you closer until the only thing separating you two was the wood and a few inches between your face. "Besides, I don't let people touch my possessions."


	3. Luck

"Hey!" you looked up from where you were wiping down the bar counter, rag in hand. The man that had shouted for you, your dear, _dear_ employer, sitting at a table in the back of the room where a dice game was currently going on. If the pile of chips in the middle was anything to go by it was high stakes.

"What?!" you had to shout over the din of the room as you started putting things in order. Whenever he called you from somewhere it usually resulted in you getting dragged somewhere semi-against your will.

"Come here!" Roa was already on his way from his post at the door, sliding beside you as you let out a sigh. For a minute you considered telling him to get bent before you realized that with his record, there was a good chance he had been. With a quick mutter to the chimera you slipped out of you place, making your way through several tables and neatly avoiding the hands of some of your more rowdy customers, most of whom you had beaten over the head a few times with the Board of Education.

"Yes?" you asked once you were in range, standing beside you employer. The grin he gave you was wicked and once more you were reminded that you worked for the devil, inside of his nest. His arm snaked out faster than you had time to dodge and you found yourself yanked down, deposited in his lap.

"What the hell!" you twisted, almost lunging out before one arm locked around your middle, reminding you that Greed was not human, nor was he bound by the limits of their strength.

"Blow this," a jerk and you were facing the table, his fist in front of your flushed face. Of all the ways he could have phrased the order it had to be that. When you saw the dice in his now opened palm you relaxed, leaning back onto his well-toned chest. Ah, you had heard about this tradition, though never really seen it in practice but at a far.

You took in a breath and did as he requested, sending a silent prayer that he do well, even if he could stand to lose a little bit of his ego. You could see Greed's grin in the reflection of the glass on the table, sharp teeth flashing. It was almost creepy, but you were getting used to his not being human. He rolled the dice, still holding you against him as the table watched them roll. The outcome was good, apparently, two sixes, and everyone roared in outrage and groaned in despair as he hit your elbow, signaling that you should scoop up the chips. How much money was this worth?

"What does this mean?" you asked, tilting you head to the side slightly when you felt the man's chin fall to rest on you clavicle. He breathed into your ear and you shivered, both from the foreign sensation and the man that caused it.

"It means you're my lucky charm."


	4. Back to The Begining

"We can't hire you, I'm sorry."

The words sent a crushing blow to your person and you stared in disbelief at the man that stood behind the window to the back of the restaurant. You had demonstrated your ability, you had cooked exactly as he had asked perfectly, not even the appearance left much to be desired. But it still wasn't good enough. You weren't good enough.

"I…see…" it took all of your control not to snap. Whether you would have screamed in his face for being a fool or broken down crying in self-hatred you weren't sure. Slowly you left the building, the small, fancy restaurant to your back as you took to the streets of Dublin. You wallet was all but air, your dreams slowly floating out of reach. You could go back to central and face the humiliation and the taunts of those who were supposed to love you, or you could take up a job with the she-bear that married a butcher. Which was worse you did not know. You could go home, back to the stuffy house and lack of freedom and the sparkles of self obsessed family members. But your really didn't want to. At all. Ever.

A refiguring of your savings revealed that you could stay in your hotel for one more night and eat only breakfast tomorrow, or you could eat for the next three days and sleep on the streets. Much as you liked sleep, you needed food to live more than a roof.

So you checked out your room, asking the woman behind the counter if she could watch your heavier bags for a few days. She agreed, for about a day's worth of food money. With a shrug you shouldered your backpack and left the inn, crossing the not-quite-as-bad-as-the-south-side of town on your way to the woods. There was an old woman there that you might be able to mooch a night on a couch from.

If things kept up like this you were going to leave, go south to a friend who would put you up and try against there. Maybe you should have done that in the first place but when you threw the blind dart at the map it had hit Dublin so in Dublin you were.

A rock went sailing from the toe of your shoes and you glanced around the dark, mostly sleeping neighborhood. There were apartments, small business's that didn't look entirely legal, and a bar. None of which would catch your eye normally, if not for the swinging pendulum of 'help wanted' hanging from a sign that read as 'Devil's Nest'.

Ice settled into your core as you stared at that. It was a sign, a sign from god that you would succeed. Or temptation of Satan, though what the gain was you feared to find out. Steel shot through your back and your spine went ramrod straight, chin lifting and a hand smoothing your hair into place, where it was supposed to be. You had looked mostly presentable already, a few hours in a kitchen had you more ragged looking, but nothing off putting for a place like this.

It wasn't top quality, but what other choice did you have? With a deep breath you stepped into the smoke and the alcohol fumed air.

"'Scuse me?" you drew the attention of the hulking figure behind the counter, silver hair crossed to spike and strong jaw set in silence. The look he gave you told you to continue, so you did. "There's a sign out front that says you're hiring, is that still valid?" You had been turned away before for forgotten signs still sitting, it would be horrible for that to happen again.

"Greed," for a minute you were utterly confused, thinking he was calling you greedy. You had actually drawn yourself up to tell him otherwise when an arm dropped onto your shoulders, sending your muscles to tense and throwing your fight-or-flight response up to bat.

"What the hell do you think-" you started turning to tell him off when he interrupted, as if you hadn't said a word.

"Who's this, Roa?" his voice rolled over you, deep and arrogant. There was an undertone that made you shy out of his grip, and he did let you, which was more than some of the boys you had gone to high school with could say.

"She wants the job," the big guy, Roa, explained simply, and you bristled at being spoken over.

"_She_ has a name," you snapped, bringing eyes hidden in darkened glass your way as you tugged down the edge of your shirt, "And I never said I wanted the job, I was trying to ask what it was."

"Well, she's got spunk," you almost growled, and were rewarded for the expression you wore with a laugh from the man, apparently the owner, in front of you. He was tall, hair black and spiked above a widows peak. You couldn't tell what color his eyes were, but his skin was an even shade, not overly light, not completely tanned. What stood out most was his teeth, sharp and predatory, and his clothes. Leather pants, fur lined vest, everything about him said one word. Pimp.

"What's your name kid?" he asked, and this time you really did growl.

"I am _not_ a kid," you snapped, but did give your name anyway, watching him hum and repeat it, as if he may forget otherwise. "The job? You never said what it was."

"Oh? No, guess not. All you need to do is manage the bar and cook for me three times a day," he stated, and you could feel some kind of weight lift from your shoulders. You could do that. You had been expecting differently.

"Us," interrupted a voice, bringing you eyes to meet those of man much shorter than a first two, clad in white with equally spiky hair. Did they all use the same gel? You wondered. "You'd be cooking for five of us, him included. So actually more like ten."

"I can do that," you stated, confidence returning. You could certainly do that. You had cooked for large groups before, or helped to do so, it wouldn't be too hard. But that brought about the matter of pay. You would have to stay somewhere while waiting for your paycheck to rent a room somewhere, assuming you got the job at all.

"We'll have to see. I don't want to waste money on someone who might not know how to crack an egg," Greed commented off handedly, raising your ire again. How he managed to do so so easily you didn't know.

"Give me a kitchen and I'll see what I can do," you promised, and soon found yourself in the basement of the bar with the word of both owner and smaller male that no harm would come to you, though Greed seemed disgruntled at your immediate assumption that he may attempt to do anything to you that you didn't volunteer for. The kitchen was worse for wear, the stove old and wood burning, counters dented and burnt and pots and pans mismatched and worn out. The knives at least were razor sharp. After a quick glance at the available ingredients you shooed the boys and the recently arrived blonde woman out of your way, having them sit at the nearby table and settling down to work.

"What are you making?" the shorter man, Dolcetto, asked from his seat atop the table, looking in on your work. You had dug out a pan and were steadily sorting through spices, checking which were good and which were expired.

"It's something a friend taught me," you explained distractedly, finally finished with your sorting. You set the pile of bad spiced, two thirds of all of them, luckily the ones you didn't need, "These are bad, use them and it'll either taste like shit or give you food poisoning. They'll need to be replaced."

"That costs money," Greed stated, glaring at you and the ruined containers. You scoffed and glared at him.

"Yeah, it does. But most of these are older than I am," a glance at the clock and you were pulling out a dented skillet, setting it on another on of the burners and pulling the pot of rice off, nearly burning yourself on the hot metal. You filled a pot with water and set it to boil while chopping up half frozen chicken, the lithely sharp knives slicing through the meat easily. An onion met the same fate, as did garlic and tomatoes. Once the water was boiling you tossed in as much pasta as you could find in the kitchen, which would be just enough for what you had planned. The meat and vegies all went into a frying pan and you cooked it up well before lowering the heat for a simmer and tossing a splash of wine on top.

At last you split it up onto a small plates, more like saucers, and covered the pasta with the sauce and bird before distributing the samples out to your possible-employer and his friends/workers.

It had gotten you the job.

* * *

You were broken out of your reverie when a hand dropped onto your shoulder, another snaking around to steal a spoon full of the cooking chicken before you. Your eyes rolled and you smacked his hand, the one on your shoulder, with a hot spatula. It would have burned anyone else, but all it did for Greed was earn you a flick on the ear.

"It's a little underdone," his comment only earned him a stomp of foot and a snarky comment, the same as you had given those months ago.

"No shit Sherlock. Now shoo, it'll be done soon enough," he laughed and ruffled your hair before doing as you ordered, vanishing from your domain. You pretended the heat on your face was from the stove.


	5. Late Night

**I realize I've forgotten the disclaimer up until now so I'll say it now.**

**I don't own FMA, or you.**

You couldn't sleep. It was three in the morning and after coming out of the illness you had contracted earlier that day your body had decided that you had slept enough and was forcing you to make up for time lost by refusing you to return the bliss of slumber.

If you had been in a better part of town you may have gone for a walk to clear your head, but it wasn't the safest part of town, so you refrained from doing so. Instead you did menial tasks, cleaning the kitchen, the bar, the tables, the windows, and the kitchen again. You even went so far as to deep scrub the inside of the stove burners.

It was four by the time you were through with all that, and you ended up sitting alone in the upper level of the Nest, legs crossed and pen poised above the open book in your lap. Previous writing and torn out papers filled the book and you tapped the edge of the pen on the corner of the paper, considering who you should write to. You had your friends in central, Ollie up north, Pony Boy in the east and you're alchemically gifted neighbor, Erik. You could write to them, or write something else, doodle on the pages… at last you set the pen and paper down and left to fetch a pair of scissors.

Once you had returned you cut out four thin strips of paper. Carefully you cut a diagonal half of each strip and started folding, one over the other until they had over lapped, pressing ends together and sealing edges until you had all four pieces in an intricate paper star. A Froebel star, something you normally only made around the holidays. But it had killed a little bit of time, you cut more paper and made more stars, birds, fish, a hat, a boat, dozens of paper decorations.

By then you had stimulated your brain enough to fall asleep so you did, brushing the little bits of left overs off your legs and into the trash before setting the paper out on display on the bar for your co-workers to find later.

You tossed together some food and set it on the stove for reheating, something you left a note advising that Greed do, lest it all light on fire. You responsibilities taken care of you slipped off to bed, yawning widely and locking the door behind you.

Some small part of you went back to the old romance books your aunt and cousin used to give to you to read. If your life had been like that you would have stayed up into impossible hours and been joined by the one your heart leapt for and you would have stayed together, wrapped in each other's arms until you both fell asleep. But your life wasn't like that, it wasn't a fairy tale, and as much as you hated it you had to face reality.

And reality meant watching your boss with his arms around every girl but you, because you could be just as greedy as was.


	6. Family: Part 1

It was a quiet night, as far as the Devil's Nest was concerned. There hadn't been any rowdy customers, there were no overly drunk men that you needed to kick out, and the girls that always hung around the corners had crowded inside for the freezing cold night. It was far below zero and would be snowing any time. It was a nice night, really, and it should have stayed that way, if only the phone hadn't wrung.

With a glance at the others you stepped away from the bar, excusing yourself from the pleasant chat you were having with one of the working girls that had taken shelter in you bar. The receiver was cold in your hand, chilly on your ear, nothing like the bright, warm voice that boomed your name from the other ends.

"Hello Alex," you greeted once you had your hearing back.

"It's good to hear from you. I had to call Olivier to get this number you know?" you did, you hadn't wanted to hear from any of the rest of your family until you had a better handle of your life. You were still in the same place as you had been, but you had managed to pay Greed back for most of your dept. Soon enough your life would be your own.

"I'm sorry about that. You have to understand I had a bit of a falling out with Geneva and Graham before I left, and I would rather avoid speaking with them just yet," you almost cringed at the way your voice changed from casual to formal so quickly. You had hoped to leave those mannerisms behind with your parents.

"You're still calling them by their name? Well, no matter, it's time for the Gathering!"

"That Gathering?" you asked, dread curling inside your heart. What did your cousin expect you to do, go to it?

"Yes!" he boomed over the phone, "The glorious meeting of family that had been-"

"Passed down the Armstrong line for generations," you interrupted, finishing the sentence that seemed so permanently ingrained into the blonde man's skull.

"Exactly! And you will be coming won't you? Mother and Father are hosting it this year and they so look forwards to seeing you," the sparkles were visible through the phone. You swear that they were. It made you worry that you shone that way when you got excited.

"I don't know Alex, I've got work, and I'm not sure how much time I can take off without everyone getting food poisoning," a new customer came walzing in and in a glance you knew that your formerly quiet night had just thrown itself out the window, "Listen, I've got something I need to handle, I'll see if I can make it, if not give my love to everyone in your branch. Good bye Alex, stay safe."

The phone hit the wall and you turned to the customer, faltering when you found yourself being glared at by angry blue eyes.

"What was that, your boyfriend," he sneered, crossing his arms and leaning forwards on the counter, "I heard this place had good surface, guess who ever said that didn't get stuck with yooiw!-" he was cut off when you lost your temper entirely, smacking him in the face before he could insult you further. Your family was a touchy subject, any mention of them usually resulted in burnt dinner or a week of snappish, standoffish behavior. You Nest had given up asking about them after you cursed your mother's name openly. Hearing that they wanted to come surround yourself with them and flowers and croquette made you want to break something expensive. Instead you put to use that famous Armstrong strength to use and sent the potential customer flying into the poor dog chimera.

It all went to hell from there, and Dolcetto didn't speak to you for the next two days. It was the third day after that that you received another call, this one answered by Bido, who fetched you from the basement with a mutter of 'angry lady', which really could have been any number of women.

You placed the phone to you ear and froze when the Ice Queen herself spoke your name, sounding like wind over a glacier and an avalanche waiting to burry you.

"You're coming."


	7. Family: Part 2

The whistle for boarding sounded shrilly and you stood up from the bench you had claimed, taking the bag you had packed from Bido and turning to stare at the locomotive. This was one trip you would rather avoid making if you could, but with the orders thrown at you from your _loving _cousin you had no choice. The butcher's wife may be a bear, but Olivier Mira Armstrong was a dragon in the form of a woman, ready to rip apart any who disobeyed her orders. Truly the Ice Queen.

"Are you sure you can't get out of it?" Dolcetto asked, one leg tucked between him and the crate he sat on. You shook your head and shouldered your purse, checking your pocket for your wallet just in case. It was there.

"I have to, mom's side of the family can be…persuasive. Besides, it's only five day, I'm sure you guys can manage without me. You did before," at your logic the boys sighed but agreed and with a quick hug and a promise to come back you were on the train. It took you a few minutes but a suitable seat presented itself away from everyone else.

With a long look at the two men standing outside your car, part of the family you had made for yourself, you closed your eyes and let the train take you away, back to the city you had grown up in and the clan of blonde haired, blue eyed aristocrats.

You wouldn't even have your old friend in the city to keep you company.

* * *

"_Hey Pony Boy, I'm gonna be in central for a few days this week, any chance you're around?" there was a muffled shuffling of papers from the other side a mumbled curse from your friend before he responded._

"_No, I have work to do here. Hawkeye I'm out of ink. What are those two doing?" you shook your head and leaned against the bar counter, looking out at the empty chairs and tables, freshly cleaned and, in the case of those that had been broken over the week, replaced. _

"_Which two? I can think of about twelve pairs of people you could be talking about," not including yourself, of course. You were just one after all. _

"_The Elrics. Wherever they go they leave a trail of paperwork," Roy complained, and there was an unintelligible shout from the other side as he barked an order at some poor soldier. "Sorry, I'm still stuck in Eastern Command. Let me know if you come around here though. Madame Christmas should still be in Central if you want to visit her. I've got to go."_

"_I get it, too busy to help an old friend suffer through her family," you proclaimed dramatically, "I'll see you later. Give a call if you ever find yourself in Dublin?"_

"_I will. Give my regards to the Major and the Generals," before you could say anything else there was a click and you found yourself glaring at the phone in your hands. Of course he was busy, he had been since as long as you knew him, running around the city and learning bits of alchemy from anyone willing to teach him. At least until he met that nut case that taught him how to burn things. The only good that came of that was he finally had someone other than you to keep him in line. _

"_Poor Riza."_

* * *

Green blurred the country side as the train shot across the tracks, bouncing and clattering along at a steady, breakneck speed. There was a child four rows ahead of you that had begun to cry, and an anxious mother that tried to calm him.

In only a day you would be seeing your own mother for the first time in nearly a year. It was a meeting you were planning on avoiding to the best of your ability. You knew that your aunt Mira would help you, being no more fond of her sister-in-law than you would, and Alex, Ollie, and Catherine had your back as well. If worse came to worse you could hide out in the garden labyrinth until the sun went down, like you did when you and Catherine would 'run away' when you were pre-teens.

Things had been tense between you and her since your father died, and only grew worse when you announced your intentions to go out on your own as the ultimatum from marrying the man she had found for you. You been disowned by her, but not by the head of the family. If Philip had decided to kick you out then you would never see anyone else from the Armstrong line.

Which might have been easier than trying to explain why you had to leave for that many days to your boss. He had been acting weird since you got sick and it had gotten on your nerves. Badly.

* * *

"_Just stay here. You said you don't care about your family so why go?"_

"_I never said I didn't care! I just said I don't get along with some of them! And besides that they're still my family, don't I owe them a few days for that?"_

"_No. So what if you're family you don't owe them anything."_

"_You're supposed to be grateful to people who take of you and love you."_

"_From the way you talk I don't think the second part applies." _

_You had gone incredibly still and Greed realized a second too late what he had said. Before he could open his mouth, either to retract the statement or push on with his argument you pulled back your fist and swung. He hit his favorite couch and skipped straight over the top before hitting the wall. Strength may be the only thing you liked about your genes._

"_Four days. I'll be back Monday, I leave Friday. You heat up what I leave here or go out to eat, I don't give a damn. I work for you, but you don't own me. Remember that Greed," you hissed out his name and clenched and unclenched your hands while he swung himself around to stare at you._

"_Of course I do," he snapped, closing the space between you two in a few strides until he could loom over you, "You're mine."_

"_No," you glared at him, a gesture that was returned as frost covered your words, "No one owns me, no one decides what I can and can't do, where I can or can't go, or when I can do so. Not even you."_

"_Fine, then go! If it's such a big deal why don't you just stay there this time!"_

"_Maybe I will!" _

No_, you thought, fury overriding the knife that he shoved in you with those words, _no don't say that. Don't tell me that again.

_But it was too late, what had been said had been said. The next morning neither of you had said a word to each other as you explained to Martel that you had a family thing to do in central and you would be gone for a little while. Greed didn't tell you not to come back from it, but you still weren't sure if you were allowed to do so. For all you knew he might just let you back in to laugh you for returning._

* * *

The child stopped crying and you lay your head on the glass, eyes falling to half-mast as the boy's father stepped into the car with a bag of candied almonds.


	8. Family: Part 3

"Cousin!" the breath left your lungs the moment you stepped off the train, your ears ringing from the sudden booming voice and abrupt lack of oxygen as you were swept up in a bone crushing hug from your elder relation. With a struggle to suck in air you returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around the much larger Armstrong's waist.

"Hey Alex," you managed to choke out, taking in grateful gulps of air once you had been released and set back down on your feet. You were lucky you had spent your childhood like that, or he may well have broken a few bones.

"It is glorious to have you back with us!" he cried, stripping faster than you could keep up. You were never sure if you should be amused or worried for his mental health when he ripped off his shirt and started posing. Where the sparkling thing came from you weren't sure, but his father did it, Amue and Strongine did, your mother was known to have the gleaming pink, and there were photos from your childhood where sparkles lit your face up.

"Glad I grew out of that," you muttered quietly, picking up your favorite cousins shirt and handing it back to him, "It's not terrible to be back. How have things been while I've been gone?" you asked, shouldering your bag whilst Alex picked up the heavier trunk from the pile of luggage being tossed out.

"Things have been well enough I suppose," he rumbled, "Not much has changed at all in fact, except that Catherine's depute it approaching. You'll attend won't you?" he turned expectant eyes on you and you shrugged almost guiltily.

"I don't know honestly. I have to get time off from work, and my boss is a bit of an ass," you ignored the curious look he sent you, "He doesn't like letting us off very often I'm afraid, it was a fight to get these few days from him" _Why don't you just stay there this time? "_so I don't know that I'll be able to make it. Catherine will enjoy it though, I have no doubt. Ollie hated hers."

"If I recall you quite enjoyed your party," at Alex's comment you nodded, ducking past the other train riders as you two made your way out of the station. It had been a nice night, as far as over extravagant parties go. Your dress had been custom made to your favorite fit and color, and the party was for you. Everyone wanted to wish your well and extend their hopes for your future. They would all be sorely disappointed by no, but you could live with that.

"It was nice. It helped that I knew I had people I could hide behind if it got overwhelming," you distinctly remember getting tired of talking marriage and children with someone's grandmother and made the excuse that you promised your friend Lieutenant Colonel Mustang the next dance. And when you shot him a pleading look your third cousin once removed, Domitian, and your aunt Constantine had swept you away from a man that had just a tad too much to drink. You didn't need protecting like that anymore, it was nice to remember you had people who would step in if you needed them too. Would Greed do that anymore, now that you had left him? You shook your head. No sense worrying about it.

"You still shall. If nothing else you can spend the night with Olivier," the not-quite-bald man pulled open a car door for you, stowing your things in the back while you buckled up. After a moment he took the driver's seat, looking like a man trying to fit in a clown car as you began the driving to the family estates.

"That would certainly assure we weren't bothered," the familiar buildings swept by, one after the other and you slumped in your seat, staring through the glass at the outside world. So often you had dreamed of being out there, without the restrictions of the Armstrong pride, and now you had that freedom and you were giving it up for what? Your mother? Why?

"Hey, Alex?" your voice was quieter than you meant it to be. He gave a 'hmmm?' of question, signaling you to continue. You stopped for a moment, thinking over what you wanted to ask. Finally you gave up on your original question and threw out another one. "What made you decide to become a state alchemist?" there, safe question.

You listened with half an ear as he took off on an extravagant tale of how it had been in your family for generations and how he owed it to the country and the people in it. You couldn't stop thinking about Bido and Dolcetto, Martel and Roa, and what joining the Amestrian military had done to them. And Alex too, dear Alex who had gone against his orders and brought 'dishonor' to your family by refusing to kill those that had done nothing to warrant their murder. Was it worth it? Were these people, who had no idea the kind of darkness that hung over your country, worth the pain of it all?

You passed by a group of children running, shrieking, laughing, and thought back to the little family on the train. To the Butcher and his Bear of a wife, Mason who sometimes discounted you on meat. The girls that would come in and chat with you when they weren't working. Catherine, your aunt Sophie, and the boy in armor. His brother, who caused Roy so much trouble, and you knew your answer.


	9. Family: Part 4

Clothe fell in graceful swirls around your legs as you made your way down the stairs to join the congregation of blonde hair the swept across the lavish dining room. Cristal chandeliers hung from the ceiling above your head, casting a brilliant glow around the occupants of the room. You tilted your chin up, smoothing the last wrinkles out of the dress you had been conned into donning for the Greeting before stepping down onto the tile, heals snapping smartly onto the hard surface. Faces turned your way, some smiling, some scowling, some so tense you were sure they would break. You met them all and glided out onto the floor.

Your name was called from your right and you looked over, pausing in your steps as Catherine and Ollivier appeared out of the mass of color and fine clothing. Catherine, as always, looked like she had stepped out of a book of fairy tales, smiling with the radiance of a thousand suns. Ollie looked the opposite, as if she might bite anyone who stepped closer. True to form the Brigadier General was still in uniform, blue and gold standing straight and proving who she was.

"Evening Catherine," you greeted before throwing a sour look at the general to your right, "I don't see why I had to come Ollie."

"Because," her voice whipped with the harsh winds of the north and she cast a critical eye on your other relatives, "if I have to suffer through this horse shit so do you."

Well, you couldn't really argue with that logic. Olivier's hatred of these kind of events was publically known, and you had been charged with keeping her from murdering guests on more than one occasion. Your ability to do so may end soon if you don't stop calling her by that nickname.

"Oh but this is going to be so much fun!" your younger cousin cried, practically gleaming with delight, "everyone is here and we haven't seen each other in so long!" Catherine's near permanent optimism had never seemed to rub off on you, something that was a bit of a shame. It would be nice if you could see the glass half full all of the time.

"There are some people I would rather not see," you had never agreed with the Briggs woman more in your life. You mother would be arriving tomorrow, Sophie had told you, which was more than you could have hoped for. If only you might keep yourself busy and out of her sight until then.

* * *

You pressed your back against the foliage, breathing heavily while your heart pounded in your ears. Shouts sounded from all around and you strained to hear more. There was nothing you were able to distinguish you slowly pushed yourself up, peaking over the edge of a hedge and ducking back down when blue eyes shot in your direction. Shrieks resounded from behind you and you knew you had to move again.

And move you did, scrambling under a low handing branch and along the path. You could see your way out from there. Just another few hundred yards, a clear sprint. But you would be wide open to an enemy attack, something that Ollie would surely kill you for taking the risk of. But there was no other choice. With a deep breath you launched yourself forward, out into the open.

Shouts of recognition hit your ears as you poured on the speed, feet beating against the manicured lawn. Just a little more…

You never made it. Looking back you never stood a chance, not against _them_ anyway. Ten bodies slammed into yours and you found yourself pinned to ground, the base of a dog pile that consisted of your cousins, Katrina, Amelia, and Richard, as well as you second and third cousins, Xander, James, Jessica, Harold, Guy, and Jonathan, and your brother Leonardo.

To be blunt, you were crushed.

Under ten tiny bodies of your youngest relatives, none older than nine.

"Off, off you foul beats!" you cried, squirming comically under their small forms, limbs tangled everywhere. You managed to get your hands under your chest and push yourself up, children clinging to you every which way. Rich or poor some things were always constant, children being one of them.

"Having trouble there?" you glanced up through tangled hair and fingers to find Olivier standing over you, arms crossed over her chest and saber hanging from her waist. For once she had left her military uniform behind, replacing it with slacks and a loose button up shirt.

"Me? Don't be silly, this game has been- owe! Watch the hair!-passed down through the Armstrong line for generations! Harold get your elbow out of my side," with a mighty groan you threw yourself up, standing and holding your feet under you. All at once they fell off, landing in a tumble on the grass.

"You volunteered for this?" a single blond brow rose and you shrugged, leaning on one hip as the gaggle of children started a game of running around the general.

"Someone had to keep an eye on the munchkins while everyone else was socializing, and no one will go anywhere near Leo after that stunt he pulled last Christmas, which leaves him with me. And while I was at it I figured I might as well keep the rest entertained. Perhaps you'd like to join? We're going to start a game of capture the flag," from the gleam in her eyes you knew you had made a mistake.

Three hours later and your team had been thoroughly whipped by the newly christened Bears. It was around that time the children were collected by their nannies and you and Olivier, who was in a much better mood now, found yourselves shipped off to get cleaned up before the outdoors lunch.

That part of the day went well enough, your mother pretended you didn't exist and you did the same, hiding between the bulk of Alex and Amue. The same things happened at dinner, and against at breakfast the second morning, and lunch again. Dinner your last night you didn't even bother to go to, taking it in the kitchen with Olivier and, for some reason, Catherine. It was nice, and when you left in the morning there were no questions about your job or confrontations with you mother. Ollie caught her train a few minutes before you did and before you knew it you were on your way back to Dublith. Thoughts of the town knotted your gut with anxiety and you curled up in your seat, closing your eyes. Maybe it would be easier to just run away again.

* * *

"She's coming back today," violet eyes snapped over to the blonde haired woman, a frown marring the man's features. He down a shot and kicked back, looking up at the ceiling in the dim light of the bar he owned.

"So what?" he asked, more of a grumble than an actual question. An annoyed sigh came from the canine like male sitting on the counter and he shook his head.

"So you can stop mopping around," Martel explained irritably. It had been three days since you had left and it seemed like the homunculus got more temperamental with every sun that set. It was wearing on everyones nerves, and there was one thought they all shared. Unfortunately it was Bido that was foolish enough to voice it.

"She might not come back," Greed grew tense and made a point of not looking at the lizard as Martel and Dolcetto looked nervously at each other. They had grown fond of you in your time with them, and none of them wanted to see you leave, or to have you not come back.

"She will," Roa assured them, and though he wouldn't admit it Greed hoped he was right. You were his, whether you knew it or not, and he wouldn't let anyone take away what belonged to him.


	10. Welcome back

You returned to your newly found place of residence, staring up at the familiar sign and letting the noise and sent of the bar and its goers wash over your senses. From outside you could barely make out the figure of your employer. Or the homunculus you hoped was still going to be your boss. You didn't think you could find a better job than this one outside of the military.

You bags, an extra one coming back with you, leaned against your thigh and you patted the extra bag idly. It was full of things you hadn't gotten to keep when you had left home the first time, in too much of a rush to bother packing them. The photo book your father had worked to create, clothes that were more fit for a night in than working, and a series of trinkets and novels saved up from your school days.

With a deep breath you straightened up and tossed one bag over your shoulder, picking up the other and making your way to the side door. Fishing the key from your pocket you inserted it, turning the lock until the tumblers gave and it clicked open. You took a single step in before you were forced to freeze, cold metal biting into your neck and light glinting off the long blade pressed into your skin.

"Seriously Dolcetto, I haven't been gone that long!" your voice carried the sword vanished, door yanking open to reveal the shortest chimera and his sharp toothed grin. With only a second of hesitation you stepped forward and wrapped your friend into a hug, squeezing him and receiving a surprised return of gesture.

"Yeah, you alright?" he sounded worried, and you didn't blame him. You hadn't known them for long enough you openly showed physical affection, this was one of the first times you had actually hugged him. You planned on suffocating your coworkers with affection now, after leaving them and being tossed back into the realm of diamonds and ice that was your family.

"I'm fine," you replied, pulling away and smiling at him cheerfully, "Just missed you guys is all. Where's everyone else?"

"You're back!" you jumped and spun at the sudden voice in your ear, eyes landing on the bald head of your reptilian friend.

"Bido!" you all but chirped and treated the shockingly light man to an Armstrong hug, one that Dolcetto had been spared as your first victim. He let out a yelp before returning it awkwardly and scrambling out the door to fetch the others when he was released. Not for the first time did you wonder how he had ended up in the army.

From there Roa and Martel came down to welcome you back and get their own greetings, which left you with a strange feeling of hugging jello and a messed up hairdo courtesy of the ox. With those finished you put your things away and pinned back whatever hair was foolish enough to attempt to impair your vision and got to work. Greed, the one you had been most apprehensive about seeing again, hadn't come down yet, and Martel had taken up guard duty at the door.

You had brought back with you the best cuts of meat your could find, paid for by Alex, and started them on the in-oven grill before you got to work on the rest of dinner, which the blonde woman informed you no one had eaten yet. Baked potatoes and grilled zucchini were the sides, done and set to stay warm, before you began on the desert.

You had practiced tirelessly with your uncles personal pastry chef to get the skills needed for your next trick. It was dark, rich chocolate cake, topped with thick whipped cream and chocolate shavings, and filled on the inside with liquid chocolate. It was a volcano, she had said, and when you set it out and tossed the steaks onto a plate it was perfect.

Dinner was the greatest you had ever made, and everyone was glad for it. Greed came down at last, not looking at you as he dug into the meal you had worked to create.

Your heart sunk.

He was angry.


	11. Announcement

**Hello my dearest ones. This is not an actual chapter, and for that you have my apologies, but this is very important. **

**As some of you may have noticed parts of this story were heavily based of off a story called "More Trouble Than You're Worth" by Pandoru, a fantastic author here on FF. It was their work that got me writing this, hence the similarities. Now this poses a problem for me morally, as well as for some of you that read this. **

**No one likes to read the same things twice, it get's old as after awhile, and you already know what's going to happen. I have been editing this story for awhile now, and will be changing and taking down certain chapters. For the resemblances I apologize, and hope you will take the time to look over my new work once I get it up. **

**I don't like copying other people, I wasn't even conscious of my doing it until Ashj mentioned it in a review, and I've been glaring at the story since. **

**So here's the deal. I'm making changes and plowing forward with chapters, and if you see something else that it looks like I may have copied from someone else (Someone that's alive) feel free to shoot me a message and I'll check into it. I don't bite, and I won't get mad if you call me out on something. **

**Till next time, **

**Shells210 **


	12. Mother: Part 1

**Okay so revisions are underway. Some of you may have noticed that there have been changes and deletions in a few of my past chapters, that is going to continue. In the meantime my dear friend Canori has "requested" and update. So you may thank her for this.**

* * *

It had been a week since you had come back and you weren't sure what you regretted more; returning or leaving in the first place. Greed ate what you cooked and talked to his none-culinarilly-gifted employees, but he hadn't so much as looked at you since you stepped foot in the door(When you were looking at least). As far as you could tell he was giving you the silent treatment in the worst way possible.

Greed had never struck you as the type to keep his mouth shut for so long. He liked things to much. But here he hadn't opened his mouth to speak to you in six days, eight hours, and… You glanced at the clock. Twelve minutes. Thirteen. Why were you counting?

You shook yourself and went back to giving your customer a plastered on smile and carefully poured shot, his third of the evening. As you worked you struggled to keep your thoughts on your work and not the person who had given it to you. You were so used to his near constant tormenting, teasing, flirting, and button-pushing that the silence made you feel cold to the very core of your being.

"Have you apologized?" you looked over at Martel as she took the possession on one of the bar stools, giving herself a knife-blade manicure. You scoffed angrily and slammed the next customers drink on the counter, making the man (Who happened to be missing a small piece of his hand) jump in fright. He snatched his order and fled back to his table, huddling on the other side of his friend. A new arrival you had never seen previously tried to tease him before the other two men shook their heads, sending weary looks in your direction as they explained what a bad idea it was to harass you.

"For what?" you growled darkly, "living a life past this bar? Having a sometimes-decent family? Wanting to do more and rub down this shitty counter?" you wiped out the cloth and started scrubbing the already spotless surface as if you could erase you problems if you rubbed hard enough. It was a wonder you hadn't dented it yet.

Martel frowned and crossed her lags, dropping the blade into its sheath and you kept ranting under your breath.

"Yeah they're not all that great but some of them are okay. Alex and Ollie are good, Catherine is nice, Uncle Philip and Aunt Sophia are fantastic. The kids are good. I have every right to want to see them. He doesn't own me, not really I mean-" You cut yourself off, blinking rapidly and forcing the angry heat away from your cheeks. You were so upset about being annoyed at after a trip you had forgotten that you actually had other places to be. You worked your jaw loose from its tight clamp giving the man another shot.

"Sorry," you muttered, looking up at Martel. You had been selfish, going off at her like that. You know that it wasn't fair to be faulted for wanting to see your family. They knew it too. You were just being stubborn about being the first to break the silence between you and Greed. You hadn't tried yet.

"Don't worry about it. I get that you're frustrated, maybe you should go work it off?" she suggested, shrugging towards to the door, "We're low on meat."

You nodded and handed her the cleaning towel, hopping over the counter while your snake like friend slipped behind it normally. With a quick promise to be back you fled into the dimming light of the outside world, setting out at a brief jog to the opposite side of town and the butcher.

It took you nearly twenty minutes to get there and back, not counting the ten you took to talk with the Bear Lady, Mrs. Izumi Curtis. She was nice, so long as you weren't doing something stupid, and had a strange liking for kids.

When you returned, without any incidents miraculously, you dropped the meat in the freezer in the back and took up your position once more.

* * *

She had been back for a week and he was still ignoring her. It was hard, every time she did, well, anything he had something he wanted to say. A jibe, something to tease her, something to make her face turn varying shades of red. But he was still mad at her.

She was his, just like Martel, Roa and Dolcetto. Only more. Not that he would admit, or was even consciously aware of that. That was why he was so angry, why he was doing the one thing he knew would actually hurt you.

And while he felt guilty, in his own way, he was stubborn. It was part of the whole 'greed' deal. So he would keep ignoring you until you made the first move.

That move came one week, twelve hours, and no-one-care-how-many minutes. His girls had left a while before, sashaying out of the building with the other customers as it was announced that they were closing down at night. He had had every intention of going downstairs to his room and laying down, possibly sleeping. He was almost out the door when an abnormally strong grip closed around his wrist and he was pulled back from the door.

He knew it was you, few others could actually pull him anywhere. Homunculi were, by nature, stronger than humans. He had noticed you first day working for him that you were too. He didn't know why, didn't really care, so long as you stayed on his side. Though it had started looking less likely that you would after you left. Martel had explained to him later that his phrasing had been creepy, possessive, and controlling, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

He was Greed! Of course he was possessive!

He was also aware he had been an ass.

"What?" the word came out gruff as the taller individual turned to look down at you, glasses missing for once. You didn't let go of his wrist, but for a few second you couldn't seem to meet his eyes. You were acting weird. He saw your chest rise as you took in a breath and looked up at him, eyes steady.

"Look," you began, "I like it here. Really, I do. If Ollie hadn't been the one to ask I wouldn't have gone in the first place. You're right, I don't get along with my family all the time. I didn't mean to say that I-"

You were cut off when the door opened behind you and Greed looked over your head, finding a Blonde woman standing there in professional looking clothes, blue eyes darting around the room with obvious contempt. Everything about her, from the flawless skin to the pearl jewelry, screamed 'I'm Rich! Mug me!'. Her eyes stopped on your hand holding his.

You froze and turned incredibly pale when she barked out your name.

"Shit," he heard you mutter, and watched as you turned around to face her, hands curling at you sides and dropping from his. Your voice was bitter when you spoke.

"Hello Mother."


End file.
